#qq writes

I have seen the sentiment expressed that "all AUs are now canon!" And, like, happy for you but... as someone who has always preferred reading and writing canonverse stories for this fandom, it sticks in my craw that the one thing that is no longer neatly canon compliant in the post-finale landscape is continuing to tell the love story between the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley (not to mention the angels, demons, and humans who populate their world).

Look, I know I am not owed an ending tailor-made for my fan fic preferences. I know it's not a big deal to slap "Canon Divergent" or "Fix It" or "Not Good Omens 3 Compliant" tags on a story and call it a day—a point I myself have brought up in conversations with friends! But there is still that lingering pang where instead of the open playground I envisioned, I am left repairing the broken slide and untangling the twisted metal on the swings. Or I have to put up signs saying that I am straight-up ignoring the busted equipment, just shift a little to the left and carry on playing.

This was supposed to be an easy breezy time following up on a three-act romantic comedy and it's not. And that sucks! I know, I know it will suck less with time. I know that these conditions can lead to a flourishing of creativity from the community. I am bursting with ideas and desire to write. But in the immediate aftermath it just sucks, man.

Something that has been really helping me process is treating Good Omens the same way you would treat mythology or folk tales. There are multiple versions of Cinderella, for example, across time and cultures. Look at any Wiki page for a mythological character and it's peppered with "most accounts claim..." "in one version..." "according to some..." "some scholars have posited..." "with later writers..." etc., etc. I am but a humble storyteller who is choosing to believe Aphrodite emerged from castrated dick foam instead of born of Zeus and Dione or whatever (sorry, Homer).

stripped

Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley (Rated E, 9.2K)

S3 Fix-It/Not Season 3 Compliant

The sound grew louder and louder until the source emerged from behind a bookcase. The whistling then dropped dramatically in pitch before coming to a sudden stop, like a songbird plummeting from the sky after being struck by an enthusiastic rifleman. Crowley's mouth remained puckered mid-whistle, though no further sound came out. He stumbled, his toes catching on the rug under the oculus. The potted plant he was carrying nearly slipped from his hands, which would have been quite the mishap, and not solely from the threat of dirt in the carpet fibers. You see, the plant was the only thing blocking Crowley's nether regions. His naked nether regions. His naked nether regions that were attached to his body, which was also very, very naked. Well, save for his sunglasses. And that thin silver scarf he always wore. But the rest? Bare. Nude. Au naturel.

Aziraphale sneaks away from Heaven to check on his beloved bookshop. (No, he's not checking in on anyone… anything else, don't be ridiculous.)

He and Crowley end up baring their hearts to one another, among other things.

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Features: accidental nudity, a load-bearing monstera plant, crying, actual conversations for once, and more crying (during sex).

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🪴 thank you to @carry-the-sky, @eefaevie, and @gingiekittycat for beta reading 🪴

talk that sexy talk to me

Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley (Rated E, 5.2K)

“Rather forward of you,” Aziraphale says, perfectly calm in speech if not in thought. Crowley's scoff echoes down the line. “Forward? Two nights ago you rode me so hard, you'd think it was the Royal Ascot.” “Crowley!” Aziraphale slaps a hand to his chest, even if Crowley isn’t there to see it. “Her Majesty the Queen herself cheering you on and everything.” That is… an arresting mental image. “His Majesty, now, remember?” says Aziraphale, lightly chiding. In reality, he is just as put out by the matter. There is something so gloriously refined about a queen regnant. “Unless you're referring to—” “Camilla? Absolutely not.” Crowley makes a noise like a piece of farm equipment that has run over a tree branch. “Hashtag not my queen.” “Hash… tag…?” Aziraphale has catalogued all the little snippets of sound that come from Crowley's mouth, and the ensuing sigh definitely falls into the “fond” category. “Just get your kit off, angel.”

Aziraphale and Crowley have an intimate phone conversation.

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Features: dirty talk (attempted), banter (achieved), interdimensional travel, and Crowley's slutty, slutty, silk dressing gown.

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📞 thank you to @carry-the-sky, @eefaevie, and @gingiekittycat for beta reading 📞

rules: post the first sentence of your most recent 10 fan fics and tag up to 10 people. I was tagged by @meetmeatthecoda (thank you! 💜).

“So, what're you wearing?” (from talk that sexy talk to me)

"Three seconds." (from please turn me on (i'm mr. coffee with an automatic drip)

"The buttons are missing." (from crowd me with love)

"Crowley hears Aziraphale's back collide with solid wood." (from how do you like them apples?)

"Thick globs of white squirt across the angel's belly." (from the new old-fashioned way)

"The last time Aziraphale was with Christ in the desert, the Son of God was being nailed to the cross." (from feel the earthquake in the room)

"'What's that?' Aziraphale gasps." (from it was a graveyard smash)

"Crowley has never been particularly interested in sex." (from beach bums)

"Five across. Six letters. 'Caught in a downpour.'" (from to the bone)

"Crowley spots the towering wig before he sees the person wearing it." (from and that will never change)

please turn me on (i'm mr. coffee with an automatic drip)

Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley (Rated E, 4.7K)

“Shhh, shhh, listen. Listen. Alright… Listen,” Crowley hears himself babble, his mouth taking over while his mind short circuits in panic. Shushing is hardly necessary. Aziraphale is staring up at Crowley with his mouth hanging open, no sound coming out. He's unfairly gorgeous in the golden lamplight, cocooned by ridiculous tartan sheets and far too many throw pillows. All glowing and pink in the face from their earlier exertions leading up to that sad, deflated balloon of a conclusion. After an agonising beat, Aziraphale snaps his jaw shut and offers Crowley an impossibly gentle smile. “I'm all ears, my dear,” he murmurs. There’s that blasted gentleness again. It's all somehow worse than if he were upset.

Aziraphale and Crowley's first time in bed together goes about as smoothly as the rest of their relationship.

(They get there eventually.)

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Features: bad sex (it gets better), bad puns (those do not improve), and emotional overwhelm.

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🍾 thank you to @carry-the-sky, @eefaevie, and @gingiekittycat for beta reading 🍾

crowd me with love

Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley (Rated E, 2.5K)

The buttons are missing. “Still… furious.” “Likewise.” Three round buttons in a column. One at the top with a pearlescent sheen. One at the bottom, the red almost entirely obscured by grime. And one in the middle with swirls of green and blue representing land and sea. All gone. Poof. Like they were never there in the first place. “A total… pillock.” “It takes one to know one, as… as… as they say.” The lack of buttons was the first thing Crowley had noticed when he stepped onto the lift. Well. Not the very first thing.

A lift is as good a place as any for a reunion.

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Features: A classic trapped-in-an-elevator scenario, Crowley's very dramatic mindscape, and making up via making out.*

*Among other things, but couldn't resist the wordplay.

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💋 thank you to @carry-the-sky, @eefaevie, and @gingiekittycat for beta reading 💋

GO Fan Fiction Writers

Thank you to @curiouspupsicle and @copperplatebeech for spearheading the Throwback Thursdays idea!

Since we recently welcomed summer officially in my part of the world, I thought I would talk about beach bums for today's edition of Throwback Thursday.

I'm not sure how I came up with the idea to do a beach fic, other than the fact that I just enjoy a beach episode. In messing around with the story, I was delighted to discover that "Underwater Blow Job" was an existing canonical tag on AO3. Perfect for supernatural beings with decorative lungs!

Somewhere along the way, sex pollen got added to the mix. I wanted to inject some conflict into the story and have there be an impetus for the beach sex. Plus, It’s one of my favourite tropes, and I had always wanted to write a story including it.

Most sex pollen stories are of the "getting together" variety. I thought it would be interesting to explore pollination within an established relationship. (Or at least, "they're together but still have stuff to work on in terms of intimacy and communication.")

I noodled the sex pollen mechanics for a little while. (Sea creatures? Something in their picnic hamper?) After determining that sunscreen would be the sex pollen vehicle, I got it into my head that it would be some brand with strange writing on it that Crowley picked up from an underground goblin market. The market bit was vaguely inspired by the poem "Goblin Market" by Christina Rossetti. Does the content of said poem have anything to do with this story? Not really, no 😆. Vibes all the way down, baby. But a spark is a spark. It made for a fun in-text literary reference from Aziraphale. I didn’t depict Crowley’s shopping trip, but I imagine the market looking something like the subterranean Troll Market from Hellboy II: The Golden Army.

(My brain is 85% pop culture references at any given moment.)

If I consider all of my past work, this fic stands out to me as a story that felt relatively painless to shepherd from initial idea to its final form. I remember having a few logistical snafus maneuvering the characters around so they had a proper spot to fuck. (As much as I like the beach setting, sand is rough and coarse and gets everywhere, etc.) Other than that, I found that Crowley’s POV flowed naturally in this one. It remains a personal favourite of my fics in terms of the sense of humour and narrative voice.

beach bums

11.3K words | Rated E

“Crowley, I’m so… it hurts,” Aziraphale manages between shuddering breaths. “Please, I… I need…” Even if Crowley hadn't spent every waking moment of his existence (and many of the slumbering ones) attuning himself to Aziraphale's desires, he would be acutely aware of what Aziraphale needs right now. It's jammed against his thigh.

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On a beach outing, Crowley has a clever plan to share an intimate moment with Aziraphale. This plan, of course, goes off without a hitch.